


Long Roads and Sore Muscles

by TempFill



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Bathing/Washing, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Massage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:34:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22181143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TempFill/pseuds/TempFill
Summary: The small room was dim. Poorly lit with only a few candles and devoid of comfort. An anemic looking mattress rested atop a rickety frame in one corner, with an even thinner quilt thrown over. Dust and soot stained the walls. It really was one of the most pitiful rooms the witcher had ever rented. The only redeeming quality was the large soaking tub placed in the middle. Painstakingly hauled into the austere quarters and carefully filled with steaming water, dried herbs thoughtfully added to the bath. The heady scent of lavender and sage nearly eclipsed the room's... unfortunate stench.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 9
Kudos: 506
Collections: Best Geralt





	Long Roads and Sore Muscles

**Author's Note:**

> Who doesn't love a good bathtub scene? I couldn't resist! There may be another chapter to this one if people are interested.

The small room was dim. Poorly lit with only a few candles and devoid of comfort. An anemic looking mattress rested atop a rickety frame in one corner, with an even thinner quilt thrown over. Dust and soot stained the walls. It really was one of the most pitiful rooms the witcher had ever rented. The only redeeming quality was the large soaking tub placed in the middle. Painstakingly hauled into the austere quarters and carefully filled with steaming water, dried herbs thoughtfully added to the bath. The heady scent of lavender and sage nearly eclipsed the room's... unfortunate stench. 

"Jas, help me with the armor. Please." Geralt grumbled to the bard close on his heels. Both men stood in the doorway, taking in the sight of the magnificent tub. Baths were not a common occurrence on the road, and a very welcome treat when they came into town. _How long had it been since the last bath? A week? Two weeks? Ugh._ The white haired man honestly couldn't remember. Too many monsters and too many miles. 

"Of course!" Jaskier jumped at the words, his heart lurching to his throat. "You're faithful companion, here to help with all of your needs." He rambled on, too excited to still his words. They hadn't traveled together long, but Jaskier had felt it the moment he laid eyes on the burly man. That attraction, the pull at the pit of his stomach that commanded him to follow the witcher to the ends of the earth. Or at least as long as the surly man would allow. 

Geralt stopped in the middle of the room to fumble at the buckles on his shoulders. Clumsy, cold fingers botched the task. Jaskier's nimble hands brushed his aside and set to work on the leathers with a fervor. Piece by piece the armor was stripped away and carefully stacked by the wall. Jaskier noted that it would certainly need to be cleaned and oiled, and wouldn't it be nice if Geralt let him do that too? Sometimes he just felt so useless. 

The older man let out a sharp hiss of breath as he strained to lift the cotton shirt over his shoulders. His muscles groaned in protest at the motion, everything alight with fire. 

"Are you ok? Are you injured?" Jaskier asked in a worried voice. He would never forgive himself if he had overlooked a wound the witcher had sustained during their adventures. 

"Fine. Stiff." Geralt huffed out as the shirt finally came free. 

His pants were soon to follow, and then he was slowly slipping into the swirling waters. Geralt hummed deep in his chest as he sank lower into the water, letting it rise to his chest. His head leaned back against the rim, eyes closed. 

Jaskier watched closely as Geralt had turned away from him to get into the tub. It wasn't the first time he had seen the chiseled form, and he hoped it would not be the last. He'd etch the sight into his memory if he could. 

Hearing the contented sigh jolted Jaskier from his revelry and he busied himself with the soap and vials laid out by the bath. Jaskier found a bar of soap, studded with flecks of rosemary. It smelled clean and woodsy. He popped the cork out of one vial, then the next. Both scented oils. _Mint, or pepper?_ He wondered to himself absentmindedly. Curious, he poured a drop onto his palm and swirled the oil with a finger. _Tingly! What fun!_ He thought as he settled onto a stool beside the great tub. 

"Budge up a bit Geralt, and I'll rinse the grime from your hair." Jaskier tries for a business-like tone, as if this were a completely normal thing for a platonic companion to offer. 

Geralt smirked at the younger man's false bravado but obliged. It was nice to be waited on for once. He scooted forward to allow Jaskier the room to maneuver a bucket without swamping the little room in water. 

Jaskier carefully poured the water over the witcher's hair, trying to keep the road dust and dried blood from dripping into the witcher's eyes. He placed steady hands on those broad shoulders and firmly guided Geralt back to his resting position. 

Geralt left his eyes closed as the young man picked up the soap and began to rub it against his hair and scalp with long, gentle strokes. One soft hand cradled the back of his head as the other began to work the soap into a lather. Firm fingers traced delicious circles on his scalp and - _Oh. That was nice._

"hmmm" the deep hum of appreciation almost sounded like distant thunder to Jaskier. It made his spine tingle in a very pleasant way and he refused to fight the smile of pleasure. The big man couldn't see anyways, where's the harm? 

Jaskier carefully worked the soap into the long white strands, gently untangling the snarls and cleaning away the gore. His fingers were sure and firm, pressing and pulling in just the right spots. 

He picked up the soap and passed it to the Witcher. "Here, your hair will take some time. Haven't you ever tried rinsing the silkymore guts before letting them dry?" 

The big man took the soap with a grunt of thanks and began to lather his arms and chest. _I could get use to this._ Maybe letting the bard follow him around like a lost puppy wasn't such a terrible thing? 

Jaskier finished working the soap into the White Wolf's mane and again urged him to move forward. He filled the bucket and rinsed the suds, careful not to allow them into Geralt's eyes. Again he heard that satisfied rumble as the hot water sluiced over the older man's head. 

Geralt relished in the attention. His scalp had never felt so good, and it was oddly comforting having the younger man's hands in his hair. For once he didn't feel like he had to be in control and on high alert. Like he could relax and let someone else take the reins. Strange that it happened to be this particular person he was giving the reins to, but not in a bad way. Yes, he decided, this work seemed to hush the bubbly young man and his hands did have a certain quality that women's tended to lack. Must be the strength and lute-worn calluses on his fingertips. Or maybe the way his subtle scent of juniper and grass mixed with the clean soap. 

Jaskier sat back from his work and looked approvingly at the soft white strands. Perfectly clean and smooth. He reached for the little vial of oil and poured a small puddle into his palm, briskly rubbing his hands together to warm them. 

"What are you-" The gruff voice was cut off as the slick hands settled onto Geralt's shoulders with a firm assurance. Jaskier pushed his thumbs up both side of the witcher's neck, feeling the tight muscles bunch and quake at the unfamiliar sensation. 

"ohhh" it came out as a sigh. Absolute bliss. 

Jaskier's thumbs reached the base of Geralt's head in one smooth motion and then began to trace firm circles back down to the point where his neck met his shoulders. Geralt's head tilted forward on it's own accord, allowing Jaskier an unobstructed path. He repeated the motion, finding new knots and slowly easing the tension from him. Slowly he worked his way across his broad shoulders, applying more of the warm, peppery oil as he went. He watched as the witcher seemed to melt into his hands, becoming relaxed and pliable. 

The soft rumbles of contentment sent little lightning bolts up and down the bard's frame. It made his toes curl and his face flush, color appearing high on his cheeks. He peeked a glance at the witcher, curious to see the shape his mouth made around one of those breathy sounds. And, oh. The witcher's enjoyment was undeniable through the water. Jaskier pulled his eyes away to continue concentrating on his work, if any more concentration could be had after a sight like that. 

He leaned close, unable to pull himself away from those broad shoulders and upper arms. Taking in every curve of hard muscle and puckered scar. Geralt smelled of soap and herbs, and underneath that his own scent of leather and deep woods. Jaskier felt drunk on that scent. It seemed to fill his head with music and whisper dark secrets in his ears. Unable to control himself any longer, Jaskier dropped his lips to a broad shoulder in a slow, soft kiss. 

Under the bard's hands Geralt could feel the young man's pulse quicken. He heard his breath catch in his throat and smelled the sharp twang of excitement. Arousal. It was intoxicating and all consuming. Geralt felt his own arousal coil like a tightened spring, ready to burst at a moments notice. And then those lips touched his flesh. 

Geralt reached up to catch Jaskier's face in a firm hand, stopping him from pulling away. He turned his face towards the younger man and met his eyes. They stared into each other for a full breath, searching. Then Geralt gently tugged and captured those soft lips in his. 

When they came away Geralt's eyes practically smoldered. "Stay here tonight." His voice so low Jaskier could feel it reverberate through his chest. 

And how was the smitten bard supposed to say no to his witcher. 


End file.
